For Want of Excitement
by Fortune Maiden
Summary: For Marya, few things are more important in a man than money. Unpredictability ranks very high on that list however...Written for the 2013 Short Story Speedwriting Challenge


From Fur to Fun

* * *

_Millionaires have gone out of fashion_.

There was a time when she would have thought it blasphemous to even think those words. After all, there was nothing wrong with a man who could provide financial stability and lavish gifts in exchange for a few minor favors here and there. All she had to do was play the part they wanted, be it an exotic foreigner, a fortune-teller, or a demure country girl (though. thankfully, she only had to play the role once, and very briefly) and they would be eating out of her hands, ready to give her anything she wanted.

She had been like that from the beginning. Since coming over to France from Petrograd, she would always find herself in the company of handsome, young, _rich_, French boys. Well why wouldn't she? She had had a big house, high-class tutors, servants and all the toys she had ever wanted in Russia. It wasn't her decision to leave and she wasn't about to chamge her lifestyle if she could help it. Her mother couldn't be prouder.

"Oh yes, he's a keeper Mashachka," she would say, "When will you start planning the wedding?"

But the weddings never came. For all of the reputation French lovers held, they lacked any excitement. No, not _that_ kind of excitement, mind you, the other kind: the adventurous kind. It was all work, parties, and gifts with them, nothing that could keep her guessing. She grew bored with them all too quickly.

Yekaterina Petrovna never did get to see her daughter marry.

Over time, she found herself lowering her standards considerably. She learned a few new tricks to attract flies of all sorts and her versatility with language (she claimed fluency in four) allowed her to play different roles if a Russian woman wasn't in anyone's desires. A few tweaks to her accent and most didn't know the difference.

Money was still an absolute requirement for any man she considered seriously, but she found she was willing to sacrifice a few fur coats for a little entertainment. Unfortunately, they weren't.

Life was all too dreary. Here she was, a smart, talented woman, who could trap any man with her allure, and she was absolutely bored. She liked the hunt well enough. It always fun to see what men fell for what role. But after catching the fools, she let them go. No matter what exciting character she created for herself, they were always the same old boring rich men.

The furs in her closet were beginning to overflow.

* * *

There came a point where she figured she had seen every rich man France had to offer, and considered leaving. She figured she could blend well in Germany, but she was a tad suspicious of that Hitler fellow who seemed a little too trigger-happy for her tastes. It was disheartening to watch the man slowly rebuild his ruined country by violating every point made in the Versailles Treaty, and have the French reassure her as though she were a child that nothing bad was going to happen. Something bad was going to happen, she knew that much. It would be interesting but she didn't think it would be the kind of interesting she had in mind.

Slowly, she found herself drawn to Russia, her birth country. She knew she could not expect the country she remembered, but she didn't think it could be too bad. She heard that the "Soviet Union," as it called itself now, was actually doing rather well in these tough times. She heard that Russia was actually starting to catch up to the rest of the world in terms of technology, so it must been an exciting, innovative time there.

She could not have been more wrong. On her first day in _Leningrad_, she found herself arrested by the KGB. In retrospect, walking around in the bright rich furs and jewelry from France, advertising herself as a woman with money, was probably not a good idea…

…However, it turned out to be the best decision of her life.

Potemkin, the man she had ensnared that first day, was quite the cunning little spy. He looked every bit the man she wanted: Rich, handsome, interesting (albeit a bit short in stature, but it wasn't too bad). He was every bit an actor she was, and then some. After all, when he pulled out that gun and demanded to know who she was right there in that bedroom when she was most vulnerable…

…she would treasure those goose bumps for the rest of her life. It was the first time she had ever been truly frightened, and genuinely did not know what to expect. It was wonderful.

The interrogation at the KGB wasn't pleasant but she got through it okay (the experience there proved to be effective for when she had to steel herself in later incidents). She heard rumors of their brutality but at the heart of it, they were powerful brutal men, and she was a beautiful woman. And she was a tad smarter than them once Potemkin left the room. She liked Potemkin. He was the type to meet her tricks with his own. He wouldn't fall for her so easily. He kept her guessing. The others were infants in comparison.

She expected to be sent to Siberia for—whatever her crime was (they were a little vague about it, funnily enough). However, fate had other plans. Potemkin liked her enough apparently. He called her naïve and trusting but admitted that that could be fixed with some experience. He rightly called her out on the fact that she had simply never dealt with anyone who wasn't some rich fool enamored with her act. He promised to teach her. It was the start of a beautiful relationship.

Potemkin wasn't a millionaire. He had more money than the average Russian (equality was funny like that) but he was a far cry from the lavishly rich and cultured men of France. Still, he was a far cry from their dullness. He was still able to get her nice gifts and the games they played with each other made up for the fact that he couldn't buy her a small island.

He was her teacher. Shortly after she joined the KGB, he taught her all the little nuances that would make men fall for her charm. Russian men were harder to trap because they were rightfully suspicious of any beautiful woman asking questions. But they cracked under her easily enough all the same.

"We'll make a Mata Hari out of you yet," Potemkin joked, kissing her on the forehead after the first time she exposed a black market dealer. That man had been a challenge. She was told straight away that he was suspected of illegally trading goods, but the KGB didn't want to arrest him yet, in case he had friends that could quickly shut down operations and disappear. So they sent her, as a potential buyer. One thing led to another, and then…

It left a bad taste in her mouth though. Sure it was fun making that man sweat, but was it necessary? He had been smuggling necessities: food, warm clothes, and medicine. Sure he was a shady crook, and he did overcharge quite a bit, but he wasn't a bad guy. He certainly provided more for the people than the stores did. She asked Potemkin. He covered her mouth before she even finished the question.

"Don't say it Marya," he warned, calling her by name, without any sweetness, "Your job is not to criticize Comrade Stalin."

"But I wasn't."

"Yes, you were."

She later learned that "criticize" held a very loose definition in Soviet Russia, looser than she realized. She also learned later that it was just as bad in Hitler's little empire, but by then she already knew how to use that to her advantage…

* * *

Potemkin was dead. Somehow.

She never did learn the details. He could have been killed by a crook he was watching, met with an accident, or even an "accident." She suspected the latter but knew better than to ask. He co-workers broke the news to her one day and that was it. Potemkin was never mentioned again.

It was a real pity. He was the only man she genuinely liked. He was rich enough, and exciting enough. Life was always unexpected with him. She wasn't an actress with him (usually). She was just Marya.

She continued her job, but it wasn't the same. It was boring. Seduce man, arrest him. Big deal. She had been at it too long. The other fellows at the KGB were starting to watch her a little too closely for her taste too. She could still outwit them easily enough, but if she were to make a run for it, she doubted she would evade them all.

It was really some sort of blessing in disguise for her that "Comrade Hitler" (whom she was repeatedly told was "a friend to the Soviets, _a friend!_") decided to suddenly invade the Soviet Union. It made things interesting for her as she was a noted polyglot whose repertoire included French and German. This proved to be her ticket out of Russia. "Mata Hari," once a nickname given to her by Potemkin, became her predecessor.

"You can't expect Hitler to kill all his generals," she was told with a smile and a French passport. She smiled back.

"No. I can't."

* * *

It was truly bliss at first. German generals turned out to be just like the gullible Frenchmen of her youth. Okay, they were a tad more suspicious, especially since she was Russian, but they still worshipped her all the same. She was the epitome of exotic for them. There was nothing she couldn't do in their eyes (since she _did_ tailor herself to their specific tastes). The only difference between them though was that the French were just dumped after a while. The Germans were absolutely ruined after she extracted valuable information from them.

It was a shame. They were honestly sincere towards her and the gifts they gave her were on a whole new level. When a German general is willing to steal—or rather "rightfully collect" priceless paintings from a museum for his girlfriend, it was truly love…probably. They were so smitten with her charm that she almost pitied them afterwards.

"Almost" being the key word though. One thought of her countrymen, French and Russian alike, and her pity dried up quickly.

After a while though, it fell into a routine. Admittedly it was a lot better than her past complaints since the danger never ebbed but it was still a routine. She hated routines. Her latest target was a Gestapo Colonel Backsheider, a foolish occult fanatic. She went the usual route with him: Fortune Teller. She was expecting to be done with him by the end of the week but then…something interesting happened.

He called himself "Durkin." He asked too many questions and it was clear that he was in the same business as her (the spy business that was. He would never be a successful seductress on account of not being, well, a seduc_tress_.) He was accompanied by a short French man who proved to be very entertaining and charming. She liked him. He was like a lovesick puppy. But "Durkin" was the true enigma. She pegged him for an American spy, maybe English, intent on bringing down Hitler's generals for him just like her. He wasn't taken by her. He was clearly a professional…

A professional liar! He fooled her. He actually let her believe that he was "Durkin" when he was really an American Prisoner-of-War! A Colonel Hogan! And she actually would have kept believing his story if not for that large befuddled Sergeant. That was the second time she was ever fooled so easily.

She was in love.

Hogan proved to be quite interesting. The man ran an elaborate setup out of a prison camp for crying out loud! He was a fabulous kisser and his clear resistance to her charms made it all the better. Even Potemkin submitted to her easily enough after the initial rough start. But this man was something else. He was coy and clever, doing her work for her after a few pushes in the right direction. She loved how annoyed he got when she suggested Backscheider tap his phone but the ensuing chaos with Himmler he created was too delightful for words.

He wasn't rich (she checked) but he was the single most fantastic man she ever met, on the same level as her Potemkin, but a little better since he wasn't technically a spy (according to him). If she were told to give up all her furs in exchange for Hogan she would smile, turn around and burn her closet. He was really the perfect ally and adversary. Pity he was only in Paris for that one little mission…

* * *

Her superiors had agreed with her suggestion. It was quite easy to convince them that she would be far more damaging if she were allowed to operate right out of Germany instead of France. She liked being in France because it was her home and there was a certain thrill in secretly supporting the French résistance, but France was getting boring. In Germany, she would be closer to the top brass. She could get better information.

She left out the part about taking advantage of a certain Luftstalag, but that had been irrelevant. As long as she did her job, she was allowed a little fun, right?

_I'm coming to see you, Hogan daaaarling, _she thought mischievously and boarded the train.

* * *

**AN:** I hope this turned out okay. This is my first attempt at a Hogan's Heroes story so I chose to write Marya because I felt her voice was easiest to capture. I kinda see her as a materialistic hedonist who hates to be bored above all else. She's not a good sympathetic person, but she's not heartless either.

**Disclaimer**: Hogan's Heroes is property of the original creators (we know that) and also, this story is not meant to offend anyone (French, German, Russian etc...) Marya's opinions are meant to reflect her character and the general attitudes of the time. They do not necessarily agree with the opinions of the author! (If anyone finds anything offensive or inappropriate, please let me know so I can remove it!)

**A few notes**: "Mashachka" is a diminutive of "Masha" which itself is a diminutive of "Marya" (And her mother's name is just a generic Russian first name + generic patronymic)

At the start of the Soviet Union many Russian nobles were given the opportunity to leave Russia so they did, rather than give up their estates to the government. Many went to France so that's why I decided to give Marya a personal connection to France since she was working there when she first met Hogan. Also Russian nobles tended to speak four languages: Russian (duh), French (language of the courts), German (language of the royal family), and English (I don't know why actually) so she's not just a polyglot for the heck of it. Polyglots were also very valuable during the war since they could work as interpreters (the movie _Europa Europa _comes to mind) and they would make effective spies.

Potemkin's name comes from one of Catherine the Great's lovers. Considering what Catherine was famous for...yeah...

"Petrograd" is modern day St. Petersburg. It was originally St. Petersburg, than became Petrograd in 1914 to sound more Russian (WW1 just started and "Petersburg" was too German sounding for anyone's tastes), then became Leningrad in 1924 after Lenin died and finally went back to St. Petersburg when the Soviet Union fell apart. A lot of other cities went through the same thing (Stalingrad is Volgograd now) but St. Peters is the most infamous since quite a few Russian jokes revolve around its name changes.

I don't think I have too many historical inaccuracies (if any) but I may have portrayed the KGB a little more methodical than they probably were. I think they were more "Arrest first, extract info later" kind of guys, especially during Stalin's time (but that kind of thing would be out of place in Hogan's setting so I chose to gloss over Marya's time in the KGB). Also it may been very difficult for Marya to get into Russia in those times but lets say she bribed the right people...I wouldn't put such a thing past her at any rate.

Thank you for reading!


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